


take a chance

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Geralt & Yen are besties, Getting Together, Jaskier is in a band, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt attends a bar with Yennefer. That's where he meets Jaskier, lead singer of the Humble Bards.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Renfri | Shrike (Past), Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 47
Kudos: 1005





	take a chance

**Author's Note:**

> i am so PROUD of this and i hope u guys like it omg <3  
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Geralt hated bars. Despised them, really. He loved the alcohol, of course, just not the crowds of strangers, the sharp smell of perfume and sweat, horny men grinding on poor women, consent be damned.

“But Geralt, it’s my birthday,” she was saying.

Geralt sighed heavily. “I know,” he said, because they’d been friends for over ten years- how could he _not_ know? “Can’t we just stay in and watch a movie or something?”

“Geralt,” she said, “that’s not fair- we do that _all the time._ ” She took a step forward and he looked down into her eyes, lined with black. “Come on, I wanna do something fun and exciting.”

He stared into her eyes. “I’m not stopping you,” he pointed out.

“Geralt,” she repeated. “I wanna do something fun with my best friend.” She raised her eyebrows with an evil little smirk. “Better?”

He hated her. Okay, not really, Yennefer was the only family he had and he adored her, even if she was a manipulative little shit.

“You just want to get laid,” he pointed out again, knowing her.

Yennefer grinned like a shark and patted his arm. “Hey, don’t get it wrong, I want that for you, too, buddy.”

Geralt frowned, like he always did when she started talking about-

“It’s been a year, Geralt,” she was saying. “Maybe hooking up with a random stranger, having some fun, might be good for you.’

Geralt looked away, eyes catching on the picture he still had of him and Renfri, smiling brightly in the snow. Yennefer looked over, too, and sighed disapprovingly.

“Please,” she said.

Geralt startled and looked at her. “Did you just- ”

“Yes,” she interrupted breezily. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Geralt stared at her, unblinking, for a long, silent moment. “Fine,” he said finally, admitting defeat.

Yennefer smiled, looking pleased, and turned away. “I’ll be back at eight.” She walked to the door and paused, looking back at him. “Do something about…” she eyed him up and down. “Yeah.”

He rolled his eyes, flipping her off.

Yennefer knocked at his door at exactly eight. He opened it and she quickly pushed her way in. Geralt sighed and closed the door, turning around. Yennefer looked him up and down with open judgment.

“Just get it over with,” he said finally.

She hummed and looked back up at his face. “Not too bad, actually.”

That was - surprising. Yennefer always made fun of his fashion sense (or, according to her, lack thereof). He had chosen a pair of jeans Yennefer always said made his ass look amazing and a simple long-sleeved shirt, blue with speckles of gray.

Yennefer looked out of this world, like usual, in a tight red dress and black boots, hair falling over her shoulders in loose, dark curls.

“But,” she said after a moment, walking over. “You have to wear this on top.”

Geralt watched as she took down his leather jacket from the rack near the door. His heart lurched; he hadn’t worn that in almost eight months. “Renfri bought that for me,” he said as if she didn’t know.

Yennefer turned around and admired it for a second. “There are many things I can say about Renfri,” she started, “all mostly bad but the girl had killer taste.” She shoved it against his chest. “Put it on.”

He stared at her and she stared back.

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbled, snatching it out of her grip. He pulled it on over his shirt and adjusted it. Yennefer was watching him. “What?” he said, a bit snappy.

She whistled and patted his shoulder. “You, dear Geralt, are a snack.”

Geralt closed his eyes. “Please never say those words to me ever again.”

“You’re so _boring_ ,” she said with a sigh. “Come on.”

Geralt opened the door and they walked out, Geralt closing and locking the door behind them. He turned around and Yennefer hooked their arms together, smiling slyly.

“Ready for the best night ever?”

Geralt snorted. “Lead the way.”

The bar Yennefer picked was surprisingly… _lacking_. It was a small building tucked away in deepest parts of the city. Geralt stopped her a few feet away from the door.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, glancing around. “This isn’t the best part of town, Yen.”

She rolled her eyes and reached up, cupping his face. “I am not a damsel in distress. You could kill a man with your bare hands - ” Geralt’s brows furrowed “ - I think we’ll be okay.”

She released his face and took his arm again. Geralt blew out a huff of laughter.

“You are so fucking _weird_ ,” he said.

Yennefer shrugged. “Thanks.”

There was a bouncer at the door, checking IDs. Yennefer presented her ID with a flourish and the bouncer - the poor fool - smiled, obviously awed by her beauty. Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s your birthday?”

Yennefer smiled sweetly. Geralt almost felt bad for the guy. “Maybe.”

“I hope you have a wonderful night, then,” the bouncer said, giving her ID back. “If I get a moment, I might sneak away and buy you a drink.”

Yennefer winked and he stepped out of the way. She entered the bar and left Geralt on his own, the witch. He presented his ID and the guy barely even looked before giving it back.

He found Yennefer waiting for him. So, she wasn’t the worst person ever.

“Only you could make a guy fall in love with you in exactly two seconds.”

Yennefer shrugged, brushing her hair off her shoulders. “I want a drink.”

“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing toward the bar.

Geralt followed her silently, glancing around, mostly just curious, at all the patrons. It was mostly young men and women, of age but too young for Geralt. There was also a band playing near the back of the bar on a small stage. He frowned; they weren’t very good. Finally they reached the bar and he sat on one of the stools.

Yennefer joined him and ordered two shots and two beers.

She nudged him once the bartender returned with their drinks. “So?”

Geralt downed his shot, throat burning in that familiar, welcomed way. “So?” he repeated, picking up the beer and chasing it.

Yennefer huffed and spun around, facing the crowds. “See anyone interesting?”

“Uh,” he said, “no.”

Groaning, she turned back around and downed her shot. “ _You_ \- ” she poked him in the arm “ - are impossible.”

“I told you, Yen, I’m not interested in dating.”

Yennefer stared at him, and she almost looked… _worried_ , which was startling. “You said that seven months ago,” she pointed out. He shrugged. “Geralt, you’ll have to start dating again someday.”

He took another gulp of his beer. “Do I?” he asked, raising both eyebrows.

Frankly, he was perfectly okay with being by himself. After the harsh breakup with Renfri, he decided maybe it was better that way. If you never started a relationship, it could never end. No pain, no drama.

“Point taken,” she conceded, “but I know you and you’ll eventually want to fuck again, at least.”

Geralt snorted into his beer. “Vulgar.”

She looked unashamed. “Masturbation only gets you so far.”

The bartender turned and looked at her. Geralt just shrugged.

“Well, I do want to get laid tonight,” she said after a moment, finishing her beer. “So, keep - ” she gestured at him “ - doing that brooding thing and who knows, you might just get an admirer.”

Geralt rolled his eyes as she stood up and adjusted her dress. “Have fun.”

“Oh,” she breathed with a wicked grin, “I will.”

Geralt watched as she walked off and joined a dancing woman with wild curls and freckles. The woman was beautiful in a way entirely different from Yennefer, all natural and soft edges. She laughed at something Yennefer said and gently touched her arm.

He smirked. At least Yennefer was definitely getting lucky tonight.

Geralt stayed at the bar all night. He ordered a few more beers before deciding he should stop. After that, he just sat back and watched the patrons out of boredom. It was interesting, watching people when they thought no one was looking.

He was interrupted by Yennefer. “Hey,” she said, holding the hand of the woman from earlier. “Triss, this is Geralt. Geralt,” she squeezed her hand and Geralt raised an eyebrow, “this is Triss.”

Triss really was pretty, but obviously older than Yennefer. “Hi,” she said, almost shy.

“Hello,” he said with a nod before looking at Yennefer. “What’s up?”

Yennefer smiled and shuffled closer to Triss. “Dance with us?”

Geralt almost laughed it was such a crazy idea. “Absolutely not,” he said, searching for the bartender. Perhaps he did need another drink.

“Geralt,” she whined. “It’s my birthday.”

He reached for his phone, tucked away in his pocket. “Is it?” he asked, because who knows maybe it was after midnight. Hopefully.

“Geralt,” she repeated, grabbing his arm before he could reach it. “Please.”

He sighed heavily and glanced at Triss, hoping she’d back him up but she just smiled sweetly. Genuinely, too, not like Yennefer. Fuck. He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Fine, fuck,” he said, standing up.

Yennefer grabbed his hand and pulled both of them into the swarms of bodies. She stopped once she found a spot she seemed happy with and turned around. Geralt watched, almost impressed, as she began dancing like no one was watching.

He glanced at Triss, who seemed nervous. He nudged her. “Go for it.”

Smiling, she nodded and started to swing her hips with the music. Geralt sighed as Yennefer slapped his arm.

“Don’t be a wuss,” she said.

Grumbling, he began dancing - or, well, moving, at least, stiff and awkward. Yennefer laughed and grabbed Triss by her arm. Soon the three of them were tangled together, dancing and jumping and swaying to the music the band was playing.

After a while, Geralt was excluded, Yennefer grinding up on Triss, who was watching her with wide, dark eyes and okay - he knew when he was no longer wanted. Smiling, he walked back to the bar and sat down.

He ordered another beer because fuck it, he was having fun and he hadn’t had fun in - _weeks_ , months maybe. The bartender placed the beer in front of him and he grabbed it, taking a gulp.

Turning around, he surveyed the crowd and saw Yennefer and Triss kissing.

Geralt lifted his beer in the air in a silent toast.

He was drunk - _really_ fucking drunk. Yennefer entered his line of vision and tsked, patting his shoulder. “When I said ‘have fun’ I didn’t mean get so drunk you can’t piss by yourself.”

Geralt vaguely realized Triss was there, looking at him with concern. Clearing his throat, he sat up straight. “I am - ” he licked his lips “ - so not drunk.” Yennefer stared at him, unimpressed, and he narrowed his eyes. “Yen, since when do you have a twin?”

“Jesus fuck,” she breathed. “Okay, Geralt, come on, stand up.”

He stared at her. Both of them. Two Yennefers was a scary thought. “Why?”

“I’m taking you back to your apartment then,” she looked over at Triss with a cocky smirk, “ _we’re_ continuing the night.”

Geralt laughed - later Yennefer would say he giggled but he would deny it fervently. “Yen,” he lowered his voice, “are you two going to - ” he waggled his eyebrows, also something he would deny.

“If I’m lucky,” she whispered back, “and you don’t fucking ruin this for me.”

He sobered up a bit at that. Triss ordered him a water.

“Sorry, Yen,” he said, taking a sip. “I - I really don’t want to ruin tonight for you.” Yennefer could be a bitch but she was, at the end of the day, his best - and only - friend. He wanted her to enjoy her birthday.

Yennefer rolled his eyes - mostly fond, he liked to think. “Just drink that,” she nodded at the water, “and then we’ll go.”

Triss leaned against Yennefer, who wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders. Geralt would have so many questions later. Yennefer had a lot of sex and she wasn’t shy about it, but she hadn’t had a serious relationship in years. Which kind of made the whole “ _you need to move on and get out there_ ” speech kind of hypocritical coming from her. 

He nodded and took another sip just as the band finished up and said their goodbyes. “Now,” a man said, holding the mic, “our main event of the night - the _Humble Bards!_ ”

Geralt swayed as he peered up at the stage. Yennefer placed a hand on his arm, steadying him. First, two dark-skinned women walked up, one taking a spot behind the drums and the other behind a keyboard.

Then a man joined them on the stage, shaggy brown hair and big, round eyes.

Geralt blinked once. “Wh- who is- ” he pointed, drunkenly, at the man, who walked over and stopped in front of the mic positioned at the front of the stage, holding a guitar.

Yennefer looked at him oddly. “How the _fuck_ would I know?” she asked.

“I think that’s Jaskier,” Triss answered. “He’s the main vocalist of _Humble Bards._ They play here all the time. They’re very good,” she said, more to Yennefer than Geralt. “I think you’ll like them.”

Geralt closed his eyes. God, his head was killing him. “Hmm,” he answered.

“I hope you’re all having a lovely night,” a voice - Geralt opened his eyes - _Jaskier’s_ voice filled the room. “Thank you for always welcoming us with open arms,” he finished with a wink.

Geralt narrowed his eyes.

“Without further ado, I thought we could _slow_ things… down a little bit.”

Jaskier grinned and nodded at the two women and soon they were playing a song. Geralt licked his dry lips and watched as most of the grinding stopped, and people started dancing slower and more sensual. He was impressed, honestly - drunk and high people usually did not slow down.

_But the story is this -_

_She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss -_

_Her sweet kiss -_

Geralt leaned into Yennefer’s side, staring at the singer. He sung like his life depended on it, like no one was watching. He reminded him of Yennefer, confident in a way he secretly admired.

The singer - Jaskier - looked down into the crowd with a coy grin, scanning the faces of the patrons as he continued singing,

_Better stay out of sight -_

His eyes paused, lingering, on Geralt, grinning wider,

_I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting -_

Something hot burned in the pit of Geralt’s stomach, and it wasn’t just the copious amount of alcohol. Jaskier looked away and continued singing, still grinning like a fool.

“Geralt,” Yennefer said in his ear. “Come on.”

He swallowed and looked away from the stage. “What?”

“You finished it,” she said, pointing at his glass of water. “Come on.”

Geralt nodded, dumbly, and stood up with her help. Yennefer wrapped an arm around his waist and led him to the door. Triss followed after them, silent and patient until Yennefer nodded at the door and she quickly opened it for them. Yennefer tried pushing him through it, but he paused just long enough to look back at the stage.

“ _Geralt_ ,” she hissed. “Hurry up.”

He sharply looked away and stepped through the door, the cold air quickly sobering him up.

Geralt didn’t remember much after that despite sobering up significantly. He fell asleep as soon as he returned to his apartment, falling on the couch with a huff. He was woken, the next morning, by his phone ringing.

Groaning, he sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Fucking bitch,” he mumbled to the empty room. Reaching over, he picked up his phone and answered it. “What is it, Yen?”

“Triss is a goddess.” She sounded outright giddy. “You would _never_ believe the things she can do with her tong - ”

Geralt groaned again. “It’s too early for this,” he interrupted. “Goodbye, Yen.”

“Hey, _hey!_ ” she exclaimed. “I had a reason for calling, dumbass.”

He sighed and shifted on the couch. “Never would’ve guessed based on your opening line,” he replied dryly.

“Okay, yeah, whatever. Wanna grab lunch later?”

Geralt hmmed thoughtfully. “You paying?”

He imagined Yennefer rolling her eyes. “Yes, I’m paying,” she confirmed. "Like always."

He smiled and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay.”

“You are the worst friend ever,” she said. “See you at noon.”

She hung up without waiting for a reply and Geralt tossed his phone back on the couch. He was tired and aching and _fuck_ , he hated hangovers. Standing up, he walked to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

Yennefer showed up at noon, like promised, and grabbed him by the arm. He didn’t resist, just followed as she dragged him down the hall and out of his apartment complex. It was warmer today, surprisingly, and so he was glad he’d opted out of a jacket.

She had a favorite spot for lunch - a tiny cafe tucked away in a line of buildings. Tourists almost never frequented it.

Geralt sat down across from her and ordered water while Yennefer brightly ordered a soda. He stared at her once the waiter had walked off.

“How are you so - ” he gestured vaguely. “I feel like death.”

Yennefer smiled, a little sharp. “My job calls for me to be in top performance all the time,” she replied primly, which was probably fair. When she’d first told Geralt she’d wanted to be a lawyer, he didn’t think it was a good idea, mostly because he felt bad for the people who’d have to go up against her. But she was excelling at the job, like expected.

Their food arrived and Geralt realized he wasn’t very hungry, probably from the hangover. Yennefer had no problems eating.

“So,” she said after a moment, “how’s my favorite little professor doing?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You mean _excluding_ the killer hangover?”

“Mhmm,” she answered around a mouthful of food, eyes sparkling.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It’s - going okay,” he answered slowly, honestly. Geralt had always had an interest in history, but he dumbly never realized being a professor meant actually teaching, constantly surrounded by others.

“Good,” she replied. “Bet you can’t guess what Triss does.”

Geralt thought about it. Triss seemed… _sweet_ , almost too sweet. “I don’t know, a kindergarten teacher?”

“Almost,” she answered with a grin. “She’s a vet.”

Geralt nodded. “She’s way too sweet for you, Yen,” he said, truthful as ever.

Yennefer kicked him under the table with her foot. “ _Rude_ ,” she chided. “And what do you even mean? I - I can be nice,” she said, unconvincingly. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not like we exchanged numbers or something.”

“No,” he said with mild amusement, “you just fucked each other’s brains out.”

Yennefer laughed loudly, covering her mouth. Geralt smiled lightly as he looked down. “You really are the worst,” she said with a nod. “So. What about you?”

Geralt looked up. “What about me?” he asked slowly.

She raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?” she asked, leaning forward. “Geralt, dear, don’t think I missed the way you were looking at that - that Jaskier guy or whatever.”

He tensed up. “What are you talking about?” He only vaguely remembered things near the end of the night.

“You looked like you wanted to eat him up,” she said. “He’s cute. Go for it.”

Geralt looked away and glared at nothing in particular. “You’re wrong,” he grumbled. “I was just - drunk, okay?”

“You are so difficult,” she said with a sigh.

Geralt wished it was Monday if only because he needed a distraction and work was as good a distraction as any. But it was Sunday and he had nothing to do and he’d already graded the papers from the test last week and he was so fucking annoyed at Yennefer.

He sat on the couch with a book but he couldn’t focus at all.

_“Geralt, dear, don’t think I missed the way you were looking at that - that Jaskier guy or whatever.”_

Geralt’s jaw clenched. He turned a page.

_“You looked like you wanted to eat him up.“_

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_“He’s cute. Go for it.”_

Geralt opened his eyes and tossed the book across the room, knocking a lamp off a table. Fuck Yennefer for thinking she knew what he wanted or needed. He was perfectly happy on his own.

Or, well… he was surviving on his own, at least.

He looked over at the framed picture of Renfri and him and frowned. Standing up slowly, he walked over and picked it up, stared at Renfri’s face, at the toothy grin on her face. Truth was, he hadn’t missed her - not really - in a long time.

But he knew the moment he admitted that, to Yennefer, to himself, he would no longer have an excuse for the way he’s been acting.

He placed the picture face down on the table and walked to his room.

“I know you’re probably going to tell me to fuck off,” Yennefer started over the phone, “but I was thinking of going back to the bar tonight.”

It’d been a full week since they’d visited the bar. Geralt stood over the oven in his apartment, stirring pasta. “And?” he prompted, already knowing the answer.

“I think it’d be a good idea if you - ”

Geralt sighed loudly. “ _No_.”

“Geralt,” she said, surprisingly serious. “I know I can be a total, selfish bitch, but I _do_ want the best for you.”

He grunted as he put down the spoon and turned off the oven. “When?”

“Wh - really?” she replied, sounding genuinely shocked. “Um. I don’t know. Nine?”

Geralt stared at the boiling water as slowly it settled. He balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder as he drained the pasta. “If I do this,” he started, “will you leave me alone after tonight?”

“Yes,” she answered instantly.

Geralt sighed. “Okay, then.”

Geralt met Yennefer at the bar. She was standing outside, talking with the bouncer, when he arrived. It was the same bouncer as before and he still seemed just as impressed with Yennefer, listening to her every word intently.

He rolled his eyes as he walked over. “Yen,” he greeted tersely.

The bouncer glared at him, obviously displeased with being interrupted.

Yennefer stepped away from him and hooked their arms together. “Ready?”

He sighed heavily and squared his shoulders. “Whatever.”

“It was nice, uh - ” the bouncer started, but Yennefer just ignored him as she walked in with Geralt on her arm.

The bar was just as packed as before and Geralt hated it with every fiber of being. Yennefer sensed it, perhaps, because she dragged him to the end of the bar with the least people.

“Just sit here, look pretty, and order drinks,” she said, patting his shoulder.

Geralt ran his tongue over his teeth, slow. “You know you’re the worst, right?”

“Hmm, debatable,” she replied before turning and disappearing into the crowds. In search of Triss, probably.

He sighed and ordered a beer. It was a different bartender, a young man with curly hair and freckles. He leaned across the bar when he returned with Geralt’s beer, biting his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he said. “You alone?”

Geralt took a sip of his beer. “Why?” he asked blandly.

The bartender blinked once before pulling back. “Um. No - no reason?”

“Hmm,” he replied and the bartender, predictably and understandingly, turned and walked away.

Geralt turned around, searching for Yennefer in the crowds. He spotted her after a moment, dancing with Triss. He almost smiled as he took another sip of his beer. This was becoming a pattern.

He finished his beer and the bartender returned, smiling nervously.

“Want another?” he asked.

Geralt debated it for a second before shaking his head. He was not getting plastered again. Hangovers were a bitch. The bartender nodded and walked away, any and all interest he’d previously shown in Geralt forgotten.

Sighing, he leaned back against the bar and found himself watching the stage. There was a band playing, but they weren’t very good.

Eventually, just like before, the band stepped off the stage and a man introduced - “ _the Humble Bards_!” - who took over the stage with an energy and charisma the other band didn’t even touch. Geralt watched the singer - Jaskier, his brain supplied - as he greeted the patrons and got them hyped.

He was too good to be playing in rundown bars.

“Now for my newest song,” he said with a wink.

Geralt didn’t know why but he suddenly needed to find Yennefer in the crowd. He found her after just a moment, still dancing with Triss and laughing, obviously not even thinking about him. Good, she was distracted. So, without a fear of her judgment later, he went back to watching the stage.

He startled when he noticed Jaskier seemed to be staring at him. Or, at least, it looked that way. Geralt glanced around, but there weren’t many other patrons near him. He glanced back at the stage, heart thumping loudly in his chest, but Jaskier was no longer even looking his way.

He opened his mouth and began singing, playing the guitar.

Geralt watched, almost entranced, as he sang and moved around the small stage, a bright grin on his face between breaks in the song. He looked so happy. Geralt never remembered being that happy, even when he was with Renfri.

“Like the view?”

Geralt startled and looked over at Yennefer. “Where’s - ”

“She’s in the bathroom,” she answered knowingly, sitting on the stool beside him. “You keep staring at him. It’s kind of creepy.”

Geralt grunted and looked away. He wondered, briefly, if the singer was looking at him again. But he wasn’t going to check, not in front of Yennefer.

“You know,” Yennefer continued with a sigh, “you could always just talk to him.”

Geralt blinked once. He hadn’t even considered that. Yennefer cackled like a witch and nudged him with her elbow.

“I’m not interested,” he said, sudden and quick.

“Geralt, I have known you since you were this little - ” she gestured with her hand, dark, sparkly fingernails glinting under the lights of the bar - “ so don’t think you can lie to me.”

Geralt shrugged, leaning on the bar. He waved down the bartender and ordered another beer. Fuck it.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to find another Renfri - ” Geralt stiffened, accepting the beer from the bartender with almost shaky fingers “ - but you can at least have some fun for a night.”

He took a long gulp of his drink and didn’t dignify her with an answer.

Triss appeared, stepping out of the crowds. She joined them at the bar and looked between them nervously, obviously picking up on the tension. Yennefer leaned into her side.

“He totally has a crush on the singer,” she whispered, but not low enough.

Geralt growled and slammed his beer on the bar. “I do not,” he answered.

Yennefer shrugged primly. “Well, have fun moping in the corner all night,” she slid off her stool and grabbed Triss’ hand. “Come on.”

He turned around and watched as the pair disappeared into the crowds of dancing, grinding bodies. Geralt frowned, deep lines forming around the corners of his mouth.

After a moment, he peered up at the stage again. Jaskier was crouched down near the edge of it, singing down at a giggling, jumping girl in the crowd. He had a big, dopey grin on his face.

Geralt’s frown deepened as he looked away. Yennefer was full of shit.

Yennefer knocked at his door on Wednesday night, a large bag hanging off her shoulder. Geralt raised his eyebrows as he stepped out of the way and she entered his apartment, a hop in her step.

“Okay,” he said once she was sitting on the couch. “What’s going on?”

Yennefer looked up and grinned like a shark. “I need your help.” She put the bag down and opened it, pulling out… clothes. “So,” she held up two shirts, “which one?”

Geralt stared - glared, more accurately - at the shirts. “What the fuck, Yen?”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I really need more friends. You’re useless.”

Geralt shrugged and walked over, sitting on the table in front of her. “Spill.”

That’s when something fucking unbelievable happened: Yennefer almost looked _shy_ as she looked down, a soft smile on her face. “So, Triss and I exchanged numbers the other night and she asked me to dinner tonight. So.” She held up the shirts again. “Choices.”

He blinked, truly thrown by the information. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” she replied sharply. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Geralt shrugged. “No, I can believe you’d get asked out. I’m just having a hard time understanding why you’d say yes.” He stared at her face. “You haven’t dated in years.”

Not anything serious, at least.

“Not fair,” she said, clearing her throat. “There was that one guy - ”

“You told me, bluntly, you were only going out with him for the gifts, Yen.”

Yennefer stopped with a thoughtful look. “Well, same thing, right?”

Geralt almost laughed. “ _Jesus_ , Yen,” he looked down and sighed. To be honest, he actually thought Triss might be good for Yennefer. She was so kind and soft-spoken. “So… are you serious about her?”

“I don’t know,” she answered quickly. “What if I am?”

Geralt smiled, just barely. “Then you have my full support,” he answered.

Yennefer pursed her lips. “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “Okay, um.” She held up the shirts again. “Prove it and help me pick one.”

He pointed at the pink one.

Yennefer looked down at it and nodded. “Okay,” she said, shoving it back in the bag. “Black one it is.”

Geralt snorted, kicking her with his foot. “Fuck off.”

Geralt crawled into bed that night and stared up at the ceiling, quiet and thinking. Yennefer had promised she’d tell him all about their date once she got back but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be until the morning.

He rolled over and closed his eyes.

_“You’re the - the singer,” Geralt said, eyes wide._

_Jaskier smiled brightly, leaning on the bar. “You’ve noticed me?” he asked._

_He cleared his throat and shrugged, looking away. “How could I not?”_

_“I don’t know if you know,” he whispered, leaning in, “but I’ve been noticing you, too - always in the crowd, watching me.”_

_Geralt rubbed his arms over the goosebumps on his skin. “Yeah?” he asked, still not looking at him._

_“Hey,” he said, an even lower whisper. “Look at me.”_

_Geralt took a deep breath and looked. Jaskier was right there, hovering inches from his face. He licked his lips and grinned._

_“Do you want to kiss me?” he asked._

_Geralt swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he breathed finally._

_Jaskier looked unfairly happy as he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. The bar was suddenly quiet and still, just him and Jaskier, as Jaskier reached up and dug his fingers in Geralt’s hair._

_Fuck, his lips were so fucking soft. Geralt groaned and licked into his mouth._

_“Geralt,” Jaskier panted against his lips, “please, I - ”_

A loud ringing and Geralt sat up, panting. He was back in his room, dark and alone. Geralt reached up and wiped his mouth, lips somehow still tingling from a fucking dream.

Reaching over, he grabbed his phone and answered it. “What?” he barked.

“Ohh,” Yennefer said. “Did I interrupt something?”

Geralt frowned. “No.”

“Really?” she asked, disbelieving. “Well, say hello to your hand for me, anyway.”

Geralt groaned, closing his eyes. “Yen, what the fuck are calling for?”

“I thought you wanted to hear about my night,” she answered, a fake pout to her voice. “But it can wait since someone’s not being a sourpuss.”

Geralt sighed and opened his eyes again, glaring at the ceiling. “Lunch. Tomorrow. I - I have something I want to talk to you about,” he said, forcing the words out. He knew what she was going to say tomorrow: _I told you so_ and _fucking go for it_.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear either of them.

Yennefer was silent for a few seconds. “Okay,” she agreed.“Usual place and time?”

“Yeah,” he answered gruffly. He vaguely noticed the tent still in his pants. Fuck. “I - I gotta go, Yen. Tomorrow.” He hung up and tossed his phone on the floor, burying his face in his hands.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

Yennefer was being kind by her usual standards. She didn’t press for information immediately - she found them a table near the back and waited until after they’d ordered their food.

“So,” she leaned on the table. “Spill.”

Geralt sighed and took a long sip of his drink. “It’s… I don’t know.”

“No, no, no,” she said. “You are not getting out of this. What’s going on?”

Geralt stared at his hands on the table. He had a few scars from when he was a child, always getting into trouble and, when he was a little older, always with Yennefer by his side. She might’ve been a bitch, but she _was_ his best friend and he trusted her.

“I want to go back to the bar,” he said, “as soon as possible.”

Yennefer tilted her head. “Okay?” she hummed. “This weekend, then.”

Geralt stared at her. “That’s - that’s it?”

“Why?” she asked just as their food arrived. She picked up her fork. “Do you want me to press for more?” She took a bite of her food and smiled. “Because I gladly will.”

Geralt ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting mint. “I had a dream about him,” he blurted after a moment.

Yennefer looked up from her food with a slightly quizzical expression. “What?” she asked, searching his face. “Who?”

He was hoping she’d know that, but really, her reaction was fair - he hadn’t even talked to the guy yet. Geralt shifted in his chair. “I had a dream about… Jaskier,” he mumbled.

“The singer?” she asked in disbelief. “Oh, Geralt,” she reached across the table and patted the back of his hand. “You are _so_ fucked.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks, exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Yennefer pulled her hand back. “You need to talk to him,” she said.

“I - I know,” he said. “And I will.”

Yennefer narrowed her eyes. She did not look convinced, and for good reason.

“I swear,” he added after a beat. “At the very least if I meet the guy and he’s - he’s a dick or boring or something, I’ll finally know that and maybe my mind will stop fucking with me.”

He looked up, startled by Yennefer’s smirk. “Uh huh,” she said. “Good luck with that.”

Geralt entered the bar with Yennefer on one arm and Triss on the other. He rolled his eyes. “People are going to get the wrong idea,” he said once they were inside the dark building.

Yennefer grinned like a shark and let go, patting his arm. “Let ‘em,” she said, reaching around and grabbing Triss’ hand, squeezing. “Come on, our boy needs some privacy.”

Geralt groaned. Triss smiled sweetly before she was pulled away by Yennefer.

Walking over, he sat at the bar and ordered a beer. Jaskier and his band wasn’t on stage, some other band playing. Geralt wasn’t worried; they usually didn’t play until later in the night, anyway.

Things changed, however, when the clock reached midnight and the _Humble Bards_ were nowhere to be seen. Geralt realized, almost embarrassed, that he never considered they might not play every night.

“Fuck,” he grumbled. “I’m an idiot.”

“That’s not very nice,” a voice said from behind him and he spun around so fast he nearly fell off his stool. _Fuck_. Jaskier, in all glory, stood in front of him, a friendly smile on his face. “Hi,” he continued. “I’m Jaskier.”

Geralt blinked once. “Um. I know,” he said before he could think better of it. “I - I mean, I’ve seen you play.”

“Really?” he asked, sliding into the stool beside him. He waved down the bartender and ordered some complicated, girly drink. “So, what did you think?” he asked once he had it, taking a sip.

Geralt swallowed thickly. “Sorry, what?”

Jaskier smiled, hiding it behind the rim of his glass. “About our band.”

“Oh.” He licked his lips. “You’re good.” Jaskier raised an eyebrow, biting his bottom lip. “I mean, your - your band. Is good.”

Jaskier grinned, setting his glass down. “I’ve noticed you staring at me, you know.” Geralt’s stomach lurched. “I hope I haven’t misread your signals.”

Geralt stared at him. “What?”

Jaskier’s hand moved away from the top of the bar and Geralt watched, with bated breath, as he slid his hand under the bar, placing his hand on Geralt’s thigh. Geralt’s heart did something funny in his chest.

He squeezed his thigh. “Do you want to… get out of here?” he asked lowly.

Fuck, was he dreaming again? “Um. Sure. Just, one second.” Geralt reached up and pinched his own arm. He winced at the pain. Definitely _not_ a dream. He looked up and noticed Jaskier was staring at him with open amusement. “Okay, yes.”

Geralt texted Yennefer - _leaving, talk later_ \- as he led Jaskier to his apartment. He vaguely realized that was probably a dumb idea, but it was too late now as he unlocked and opened the door.

They walked in and Geralt smiled tightly. “Do you want a drink?”

He hadn’t had a person in his apartment, other than Yennefer, since Renfri, which was probably pathetic on top of other things.

Jaskier turned around and smiled, entirely relaxed even in a stranger’s apartment. How did he do it? Stupidity or something else? “Just water,” he answered.

Geralt disappeared into the small kitchen and returned a few minutes later. He noticed, immediately, where Jaskier was - what he was looking at.

His heart squeezed in his chest almost painfully as he rushed over. “Uh.”

Jaskier peered down at the photo of Geralt and Renfri, holding it gently around the edges. “You’re - ?” he asked, letting the implication hang in the air.

Geralt shook his head firmly. “We’re not together,” he assured him. “Haven’t been for… a while,” he admitted, suddenly feeling stupid for still having the photo, especially so long after the fact.

“Sorry,” Jaskier said, putting the photo back down. “I shouldn’t have looked without asking first.”

Geralt shrugged sharply. “Come on,” he nodded at the couch.

Sitting down, they both sipped at their water. Geralt was tightly wound up.

“Hey,” Jaskier said after a moment, setting his glass down. He turned toward Geralt. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I just… I thought you did, and I mean,” he smiled, a little sly, “you’re _really_ fucking hot, so I wasn’t about to - ”

Geralt lurched forward and kissed him, almost painfully, on the lips, teeth clanking together.

Jaskier grinned against his lips for a split second before kissing back. Just like in his dream, Jaskier’s lips were unfairly soft, especially for a man.

Reaching down, he gripped Jaskier by the hips. He was thin, especially compared to Geralt, tall and lanky. Slowly, he bunched his shirt up, out of the way, so he could run his fingers over skin.

Jaskier eventually pulled away, settling their foreheads together. “Um. Okay, _wow_ ,” he said through a bit of a laugh. “But, I feel like… I should ask again: do you really want to do this?”

Geralt wanted. He wanted Jaskier, wanted this, more than he wanted air.

“Yes,” he growled. Then, just to be polite - “do you?”

Jaskier laughed, high pitched and a little frantic. “Um. Yes, absolutely,” he breathed, kissing him again.

Geralt barely remembered anything after that - hot, sweaty skin, moans, sparks of pain when Jaskier clawed his back. He opened his eyes, unsure of the time, and noticed he was by himself.

He sat up and immediately noticed the note sitting on his table.

_I had fun, see you later - Jaskier._

Geralt swallowed thickly. Okay. He searched for his phone and called Yennefer. “I did it,” he said as soon as she picked up. “I slept with Jaskier.”

“Lunch,” she said, “now.”

“Jesus, sounds like the little guy is more kinky than he looks,” she remarked, a smirk on her face. “Lucky.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Well,” he sighed, taking a sip of his tea, “at least that’s over with.”

Yennefer looked up sharply, her fork clattering as she dropped it. “ _What?_ ”

“What?” he parroted, furrowing his brows.

She stared at him. “What do you mean, over with?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You’re not - you’re kidding me, right?”

Geralt stared back. “I slept with him. Should be out of my system now.”

“Sy - system?” she asked ludicrously. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Geralt shrugged, looking down at his food. He poked at it, not really hungry. “I was obviously just - looking for a hookup. Like you said, even if it’s just sex, it’s progress, right?” He looked up.

“I mean, yeah,” she answered slowly, “but Geralt, I really don’t think - ”

He stood up, pushing his chair back with a screech. “Bathroom,” he said tersely when Yennefer looked at him questioningly. He turned and stomped to the back of the establishment.

Why was Yennefer being so fucking _weird?_ he thought as he rinsed his hands. She was the one who wanted him to fuck a stranger so badly, and _now_ she knew better than him?

He returned a few minutes later and Yennefer sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

Geralt stared at her, waiting. She rarely apologized unless she truly thought the other person deserved it.

“You know what you need better than I do,” she said through clenched teeth. “Just… don’t be stupid, okay? Or do that thing where you ruin something for yourself because you don’t think you deserve it.”

Geralt nodded. “I won’t,” he said.

Yennefer smiled tightly. “I hope not,” she replied.

Geralt did not think of Jaskier again for a few days, just like he knew he wouldn’t. Yennefer was a fool if she really thought he had anything resembling actual _feelings_ for the singer.

He barely knew him, and frankly he wasn’t anything too special.

He just had… _really_ soft hair and lips and bright, honest blue eyes and pale skin and freckles on his back and chest and. And _nothing_ , Geralt thought firmly, as he crawled into bed, five nights after their hookup. They’d never even made it to his bed, fucking like depraved animals on the couch.

He wondered, briefly, how different sex would be with him in an actual bed. Shaking his head, he firmly squashed that thought and buried it, deep.

Closing his eyes, he dozed off.

_“Geralt,” Jaskier’s voice in his ear, low and heated, “I want you. Please.”_

_He opened his eyes, slowly, and blinked up at the other man, straddling him. Geralt’s licked his lips and reached up, running his hands up and down Jaskier’s sides._

_“Geralt,” he breathed, leaning down and nipping at Geralt’s bottom lip. “God, Geralt, I need you so bad. Please, fuck - ”_

Geralt sat up, panting and sweaty all over. Yennefer glared at him from the foot of his bed, a pillow in her hand. She smacked him with it. “Hey, fuck, I’m up! Fuck, Yen.”

She lowered the pillow. “I know,” she said, pointedly staring down at his -

Geralt groaned and grabbed the pillow from her, covering his erection. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

Yennefer reached in her pocket and pulled out a key with a devilish grin.

“You - you had a key made?” he asked in disbelief. “Without my permission?”

Rolling her eyes, she pocketed the key again. “Oh, shut up, you should feel lucky.” He stared at her, confused, before she pointed at the clock and he looked, eyes widening.

“I’m late,” he said. “Why didn’t my alarm go off?”

Yennefer hmmed. “Think it did, you were just a little too… _distracted_.”

Geralt groaned and jumped out of bed, still pointedly covering his erection as he walked to the bathroom, slamming the door.

“So,” Yennefer said, walking over and leaning against the door.

He didn’t reply.

“Let me guess,” she continued, “you were dreaming about a certain singer with shaggy brown hair and puppy dog eyes.”

Geralt opened the door. “Puppy dog eyes?” he repeated.

Yennefer shrugged. “Don’t change the subject,” she said, poking him in the chest. “You said you’d be over him if you fucked. Well, I don’t think I need to tell you this… but you’re _not_ ,” she finished, deadpan.

“What?” he asked, pushing his way out of the bathroom. He walked to his closet. “He was a good lay, so I dreamed about fucking him again, that’s not unheard of and doesn’t mean - ” he turned around “ - _anything_.”

Yennefer folded her arms over her chest. “Okay, so if it doesn’t mean anything, you’ll have no problem accompanying Triss and I to the bar tomorrow night, right?” Geralt opened his mouth, but she just barreled on. “Okay, awesome,” she said, walking over and patting his cheek a few times. “See you tomorrow, Geralt.”

Geralt accompanied them, like promised - well, like Yennefer promised for him. But, like always, they abandoned him within minutes of arriving, disappearing into the crowds. Grumbling, he walked over and ordered a beer.

The bartender, the one who’d tried talking to him a few nights ago, tried again.

“So,” he said, placing his beer in front of him. “Why do you keep coming here if you’re just going to drink the whole night?”

Geralt sighed heavily. “Honestly, my friend,” he said.

“The girl with dark hair?” he prompted, and Geralt nodded. “Hmm, well, I know how that feels. Hey,” he said. “I should be getting off any second now… Do you think maybe - ”

“Geralt,” Jaskier interrupted, a bright smile on his face.

Something fluttered in Geralt’s stomach, probably from the alcohol.

The bartender frowned and walked off. “Jaskier,” he greeted tersely.

“Are you here to watch me perform again?” he teased with a wink. He sat beside Geralt. The bartender pointedly ignored him when he waved for a drink. Pouting, he gave up.

“I’m here with my friends,” he said gruffly.

Jaskier turned and looked at him. “The pretty girls, right?”

Geralt’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he answered. “Them.”

“You should introduce me,” he said with another wink and snatched Geralt’s drink right out from underneath him, taking a gulp. Geralt stared at him in disbelief. Grinning, Jaskier returned his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks.”

Geralt could feel Yennefer staring at him. It was like an instinct.

“Hey,” he said. “When do you perform?”

Jaskier hmmed. “Not for an hour or so.” He bit his bottom lip. “Why?”

Geralt shrugged. “No reason.”

Geralt was slammed up against the side of the building, no regards to his health. Thankfully, he just laughed, no pain at all, as Jaskier slammed their lips together, licking into his mouth with a desperate moan.

“I - I thought you wouldn’t want to - ” Jaskier panted against his lips, hands already working on his jeans.

Geralt didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He kissed Jaskier, nipping and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Jaskier whimpered, finally getting his hand in Geralt’s jeans, cupping him through his underwear.

“You’re so fucking hard,” he moaned.

Geralt reached down and cupped Jaskier through his stupidly tight black jeans. “Yeah?” he breathed, running his tongue over Jaskier’s bottom lip. “I’m not the only one.”

Afterwards, they sat together on the ground, their hands sticky.

“We should really…” Geralt trailed off.

Jaskier smiled, knowingly, and pulled his bag closer. He pulled out a small pack of wet wipes and winked at a scandalized looking Geralt. “ _Please_ ,” he said, pulling a wipe out of the package and taking Geralt’s hands, gently cleaning them. “Don’t look so scandalized after just having had my dick in your mouth.”

“ _You_ had _my_ dick in your mouth first,” he retorted.

Jaskier grinned. “Okay,” he said, presenting his hands. “Your turn.”

Rolling his eyes, Geralt grabbed a wipe out of the package and started cleaning Jaskier’s hands. He noticed, quickly, all the scars and callouses on his fingers. “What - ?” he asked, gently running his thumb over one of them.

“No judging,” Jaskier said, “not when your hands are no better.”

Geralt smiled, just a hint. “I’m not judging,” he assured him. “Just… curious.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier stared down at his hands. “Learning the guitar isn’t easy,” was his sufficient answer. “Especially when you’re purely self-taught.”

Geralt looked up, genuinely surprised. “Really?”

Jaskier grinned, looking pleased and maybe just a little embarrassed. “My parents were pretty poor growing up. They saved up and bought me a guitar for my birthday because I begged for one before realizing we had no money for lessons. So, I practiced a lot.”

“You must really enjoy it,” he said. He was still wiping his hands, though they were no longer dirty. Jaskier didn’t seem to mind.

“I do,” he answered softly. “It’s - it’s the singing, though. That’s what really makes me happy.”

Geralt nodded. He was no longer wiping Jaskier’s hands or anything, but holding them. Jaskier turned his hand over, biting his bottom lip, and their fingers interlaced.

“What about you?” he asked. “What makes you happy?”

Geralt shrugged, a little too sharp. “I - I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I teach history and… I really do enjoy history, learning about the past, their mistakes, their triumphs. But I don’t know. Happy is a bit of a stretch, I think,” he admitted. He barely realized what he’d said until he noticed Jaskier was staring at him. “What?” he asked gruffly.

Jaskier shrugged and scooted closer. He looked down at their hands.

“Hey,” he said after a moment. “Do you want to - ”

The door slammed open and Geralt startled, pulling away. One of Jaskier’s band mates, dark, long hair in a braid, stuck her head out. “Jaskier,” she said, sounding relieved. “Come on, we’re about to start.”

Jaskier nodded and quickly stood up, dusting off his jeans. “Um. One sec?”

She stared at him skeptically before sighing and closing the door.

“Hey,” he said, turning to look at Geralt, who had stood up too. “I’ll - uh. I’ll see you around?”

Geralt nodded curtly. “Yeah.”

Smiling, Jaskier stepped forward and softly kissed Geralt’s jaw. He pulled back with a grin, biting the inside of his cheek. “Bye, Geralt,” he said.

Geralt watched, silently, as Jaskier opened the door and slipped back into the bar. Looking down, he stared at his hand.

The door opened again, and a wild part of Geralt hoped it was Jaskier.

“Geralt?”

He looked up into Yennefer’s concerned face. “Oh. Hey.”

She blinked once. “What are you doing out here?” She smacked his arm. “I was _worried_ , you ass.”

Geralt shrugged sharply. “Just… looking at the stars.”

Yennefer squinted at him. “Okay, how much have you had to drink?” she asked, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

Geralt stared up at the ceiling.

_Hey, do you want to -_

He rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut. What was Jaskier going to ask or suggest? He let out a slow, deep breath. It probably wasn’t anything important, and even if it was, whatever.

Geralt had made himself perfectly clear that he didn’t want Jaskier, not like _that_. Yennefer had suggested he had some fun and that’s what he was doing. Jaskier was the most fun he’d had in ages.

Sighing, he dozed off.

_Geralt looked around. He was sitting at a restaurant, one he didn’t know. It was nicer than the restaurants he went to with Yennefer. Frowning, he heard footsteps and looked up._

_Jaskier was standing in front of him, all dressed up with a big grin on his face._

_He blinked once. “Jaskier,” he breathed._

_Jaskier just grinned wider. “Do - do I look okay?” he asked, tugging on his suit jacket, biting his bottom lip._

_Geralt swallowed thickly. “Um. Yeah. Yes,” he laughed. “You look amazing.”_

_“Good,” Jaskier said, beaming as he sat down. “You do, too.”_

_Geralt looked around again. “Wh - what are we doing here?” he asked, finally focusing back on Jaskier, who was still smiling brightly._

_God, his smile was beautiful._

_Jaskier tilted his head, looking mildly confused. “You asked me out,” he said, almost sounding hurt. “You - you don’t remember?”_

_“No, no, I do,” he assured him quickly. No, he didn’t, but he hated seeing that hurt look on Jaskier’s face._

_Jaskier grinned again and gently kicked Geralt’s leg under the table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he peered lovingly at Geralt. What the fuck? “I’m… I’m really happy you asked me out, Geralt,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “I was hoping you would.”_

_Geralt swallowed thickly. “Really?”_

_“Mhmm,” he answered, smiling a bit shyly. “So, what are you getting?”_

Geralt opened his eyes. Reaching up, he pressed a hand over his heart, which was beating fast. His hand slid off his chest and landed in the sheets, clutching them instinctively.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He was so _fucked_.

“Yennefer,” he said as soon as she picked up. “Lunch. Today.”

“ _Yennefer_?” she repeated. “You _never_ use my full name. This must be bad.”

Geralt scrubbed a hand down his face. “Kind of,” he replied. “Just show up.”

“Okay,” she agreed easily enough. “I’ll see you soon, Geralt.”

A few hours later, they were sitting at a table. Geralt was definitely not hungry, but Yennefer was eating with no problem. He sighed and leaned on the table, burying his face in his hands.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Start talking.”

Geralt looked up at her from between his fingers. “I had another dream about Jaskier,” he said, waiting for her reaction.

“ _Ohh_ -kay,” she said, furrowing her brows. “And this is important because - ?”

Geralt sighed heavily, hands dropping from his face. “It wasn’t a sex dream.”

“Oh,” she said simply. She put her fork down. “Okay. I need a little more info.”

Geralt leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “It was - Gods. Yen, I dreamed of us… at a nice _restaurant_. On a _date_.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Geralt, you have _feelings_ for the little shit.”

Geralt looked away. “I - I don’t know. I didn’t think I did, but… the other night, before you found me, we talked and I don’t know, Yen. It was nice. _He’s_ nice, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Ask him the fuck out,” she said, kicking him in the shin. “That’s what you do.”

Geralt winced and reached down, rubbing at his leg. “Did you not just hear me?” he said, a bit rough. “He’s nice, Yen. And talented and could be or - or _do_ anything.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “And?” she prompted.

Geralt looked away again. “He deserves - ”

Yennefer kicked him again, harder. He flinched and glared at her. “If you’re about to say he deserves better, I will jump across this table and beat the everloving _shit_ out of you.”

“Wow,” he drawled dryly. “You’re such a good friend.”

Yennefer hmmed. “I am,” she said. “So, hear me when I say: you are a _good_ fucking person, Geralt.” Geralt stared at her, quiet. “You might have some problems, sure, but you’re the most loyal bitch I know - ” he snorted “ - and you don’t love easily but when you do it’s fucking… all-consuming.”

“Is that really a good thing?” he asked quietly. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Yennefer frowned. “Because you rarely love people who deserve it,” she said simply. He opened his mouth, but she put a hand up, cutting him off. “Renfri was okay, but _she_ was not good enough for _you_ , Geralt. Don't get it twisted.”

“Yen,” he said, at a loss for words.

She shrugged. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about Jaskier, but… I think if he makes you feel good, you should go for it.”

Geralt licked his lips. “I don’t even know if he wants the same thing.”

“And you’ll never know,” she started, “if you don’t ever _ask_.”

Geralt looked at her. “Yen,” he said, eyeing her skeptically. “You’re being, like, uncharacteristically nice. Are you feeling okay?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, but smiled. “What can I say? Triss might be rubbing off on me - ” she grinned, then “ - in _more_ ways than one.”

“Okay,” he said. “Gross.”

“What?” she said, leaning back in her chair. “You can talk about your sex life but it’s a problem when I do the same?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow and crossing her arms.

Geralt snorted. “Fuck, okay, fair point.”

Looking pleased with herself, Yennefer picked back up her fork.

Geralt arrived at the bar by himself that following Saturday night. He had texted Yennefer about tonight and she’d offered to go with him, but he’d turned her down. He needed to do this on his own. He needed to be _brave_.

He nodded at the bouncer, who glanced around like he was looking for -

“Just me tonight,” he said with mild amusement.

The bouncer frowned as he stepped out of the way and opened the door. Geralt rolled his eyes as he entered the bar. He looked around, immediately, searching for a familiar mop of brown hair.

He found himself at the bar without even realizing it.

“Looking for someone?” the bartender asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Geralt grunted in reply.

“Let me guess,” the bartender said. “Jaskier?”

Geralt spun around and stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

The bartender smirked with an annoying wink as he turned away and walked off. Geralt shrugged it off and started searching for Jaskier again.

“Looking for me?” was whispered directly in his ear.

Geralt jumped, nearly out of his seat, and turned around. Jaskier was standing in front of him in his usual black, tight jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt under a leather jacket.

“Um. Kind of, yeah,” he answered honestly.

Jaskier blinked, looking a little surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, clearing his throat. “Uh, I was hoping we could talk.”

Jaskier nodded, smiling a bit. “Okay, yeah, I would like that, but - ” The bar fell quiet as the current band walked off stage, and a man walked up, introducing the _Humble Bards_. “I gotta go. Um, after?”

Geralt smiled back, unable to help himself. “Okay.” He nodded. “After.”

“I’ll meet you here,” he said, nodding at the bar before he ran off. Geralt idly noticed the case he was carrying, shaped like a guitar. He smiled a little bigger and waved down the bartender.

“Beer, please.”

Jaskier walked on stage and approached the mic, gripping it lightly. “Hello, lovelies,” he greeted and the crowd cheered. He smiled brightly, obviously eating it up. “Ready for my newest masterpiece?” he asked with a wink.

The crowd cheered again, louder.

“Okay,” Jaskier looked over at Geralt, eyes meeting. “I hope you guys like it.”

Geralt felt stupidly warm, deep in his chest. He leaned back on the bar and stared up as Jaskier started playing and singing. He listened, enjoying himself. He barely realized what Jaskier was singing about -

_Long, light hair -_

_Scars on the back of our hands -_

Geralt sat up a little straighter. The bartender stopped near him, leaning on the bar, a knowing smirk on his face again. He wanted to wipe it off his face, but refrained.

“Hmm,” the bartender said. “Wonder who he’s singing about.”

Geralt glared at him and he grinned, walking away with his hands in the air.

Jaskier and his band finished their set and walked off the stage, the crowd cheering. Geralt waited until he felt Jaskier’s hand on his arm. He looked at him.

“Hey,” Jaskier said softly. “Um. Want to - ” he nodded at the door.

Geralt nodded quickly.

They walked out of the bar and around the corner, to the same spot they’d been before. Jaskier leaned against the side of the building. Geralt joined him, close enough their shoulders brushed.

“So,” Jaskier said, breaking the silence. “What did you want to talk about?”

Geralt snorted. “Well, _now_ I want to talk about what happened in there.”

Jaskier smiled sheepishly. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“The song, Jaskier,” he answered, soft. “I’m not an idiot.”

Jaskier shrugged sharply, staring down at his feet. “I should’ve asked you,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “I usually do. I just - I thought you’d think I was… a stalker or something,” he whispered, looking up. “I mean, we’ve slept together twice and here I was writing a ballad about you.”

Geralt closed his eyes, letting out a huff of laughter. “Jaskier, if that makes you a stalker, then…” Sighing, he opened his eyes. “I’m not sure I want to tell you what’s been going on with me.”

“No, no,” he said, smiling a bit. “That’s not fair.” He poked him in the chest. “Tell me.”

Geralt sighed again, heavier. Shaking his head, he swallowed around the lump in his throat, all fear and nerves, staring down into Jaskier’s eyes, blue with a few small specks of brown.

“I’ve had three dreams about you,” he said, a little too fast. Jaskier blinked, and he continued, “I had the first dream before I’d ever properly met you, which is super fucking creepy, isn’t it? Fuck,” he cursed, “don’t think I’m like - ”

Jaskier surged up and kissed him. Geralt hesitated for a second, surprised, before he slowly kissed back, dropping his hands to Jaskier’s hips. Jaskier reached up, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s arm and tugging him closer.

“Wh - what was _that_ for?” Geralt asked after Jaskier had pulled back, a dopey grin on his face.

Jaskier stared into his eyes. “I kind of think I want to do more than just fuck you,” he whispered, “if you want that, too.”

Geralt didn’t know what he wanted - no, that was a lie, and he knew it. He knew what he wanted. He had no doubt in his mind what he wanted. He wanted Jaskier in every sense of the word, wanted to fuck him every night and kiss him every morning.

He gulped. “Jaskier, I’m not good at - at any of _this_. You should know that.”

Jaskier shrugged, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair. “We can take it day by day,” he said, soft and sweet. He leaned up and kissed the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Does that sound doable?”

Geralt ran his hands down Jaskier’s back. “I - yes,” he said. “Definitely doable.”

“So,” Jaskier said with a cheeky grin. “We should probably exchange numbers if this is like... a _thing_ now.”

Geralt barked out a laugh even he seemed surprised by. “Yeah, probably.”

Geralt called Yennefer the next day. “Hey.”

“Oh my God,” she said right away, “you’ve been tamed by a dick.”

Geralt blinked once. “How the _fuck_ do you know that?” he asked before - “Actually, wait, fuck you.”

“I can hear it in your voice,” she said proudly. “So, when can I meet the lovely lad? Like, for real.”

Geralt hadn’t even thought about that. “I don’t know. We shouldn’t rush things.”

“Aww,” she cooed, the witch. “That’s so grown up of you, Geralt. I’m proud.”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s - he’s staying the night with me tonight,” he blurted before he could think better of it. Yennefer cackled in his ear. “What?” he asked quickly. “Too soon?”

“No, no,” she assured him. “Just let me know what happens, okay?”

Geralt nodded. “I will,” he said before hanging up.

He walked out of his bedroom and glanced around his apartment. He usually kept things pretty neat - to be fair, he didn’t _have_ a lot of things - but things were a little out of place because he hadn’t been caring much lately. He’d been too distracted by _other_ things.

So, he spent the next few hours cleaning.

Geralt was just finishing up when he got a text quickly followed by a knock at the door. He glanced at the text from Jaskier - _hi, I’m here_ followed by a startling amount of emojis - before walking to the door.

He opened it and his heart did something funny in his chest. Jaskier looked especially casual in sweatpants and a plain hoodie, a few sizes too big for him. He looked, frankly, _adorable_. Geralt couldn’t even remember the last time he’d used that word, especially about a person.

He cleared his throat. “What’s the point of texting me right before you knock?” he asked.

Jaskier grinned sheepishly. “Um. Good point. Mostly for the emojis.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped out of the way. “You know I have no fucking idea what any of those emojis mean, especially when paired together, right?”

Jaskier gasped dramatically as he walked over and sat on the couch, dropping his bag on the floor. “Well, well, _that_ will be changing soon,” he said with confidence, patting the couch. “Come here, your first lesson on emojis starts now.”

Geralt stared at him for a long, quiet moment. “Fine,” he said before disappearing into the kitchen and returning with two beers, “but I am not suffering tonight sober.”

Jaskier grinned as he accepted one of the beers. “Okay, so, the eggplant - ”

By the end of it, Geralt was just lightly buzzed and a little more educated though still rightfully confused because - “why the _fuck_ is eggplant the emoji for a dick again?” he asked.

Jaskier shrugged. “ _I_ didn’t make the eggplant emoji the universal dick emoji.”

“Hmm,” he replied. “Wait,” he fumbled for his phone and opened his text from Jaskier. “Why did you send me five eggplant emojis, then?”

Jaskier scooted closer to him on the couch and reached down, squeezing his thigh. “I don’t know,” he breathed, lowering his voice. He leaned forward and nuzzled right under his ear. “Take a _wild_ guess,” he whispered, nipping playfully at Geralt’s earlobe.

Geralt’s eyes darkened. “Get over here,” he commanded gruffly.

Jaskier grinned and threw a leg over Geralt on the couch, straddling him. He reached up and brushed some of Geralt’s hair out of his face.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Geralt snorted. “Hey,” he said back.

Jaskier leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. “You’re… fucking gorgeous,” he said.

“Me?” he asked ludicrously.

Jaskier hummed, rubbing their noses together. “ _Mhm_.”

“I think…” Geralt started, low and quiet, reaching down and slipping his hands under Jaskier’s hoodie. “We should stop _talking_ ,” he finished, barely a whisper as he swiped his thumbs over Jaskier’s nipples, feeling giddy and pleased as Jaskier arched his back with a groan.

“Gods, Geralt, _yes_ ,” he moaned.

His body was sensitive in a way Geralt couldn’t understand, but fucking adored. He helped Jaskier get his hoodie and shirt off and leaned forward, sucking one of his nipples between his lips.

Jaskier gasped and dug his fingers in Geralt’s hair.

Geralt pulled back, thumbs hooking under the waistband of Jaskier’s sweatpants, but he didn’t get very far before there was a knock at the door. He peered up at Jaskier. “ _Shh_ ,” he said. “They’ll go away.”

Jaskier nodded, biting his bottom lip. Geralt wanted to kiss him so fucking bad.

“Geralt!” Yennefer’s voice called through the door. “I will kick this door down if you don’t - ” there was an impatient bang “ - fucking _open_ it!”

Groaning, and not for any fun reasons, Geralt looked up at Jaskier. “I should get that,” he said. Jaskier pouted, but he just kissed him, short and sweet. “It’s not an empty threat. She really _will_ kick down the door.”

Jaskier nodded, slipping out of his lap and settling on the couch.

Geralt stood up and walked over, opening the door. He leaned against the door frame, blocking her view. “What the fuck are you doing here, Yen?” he asked through clenched teeth. “I thought I told you I was _busy_.”

“You did,” she answered simply and put a hand on his chest, pushing.

Sighing, he stepped out of the way and scrubbed a hand down his face. There was no denying Yennefer what she wanted, he knew that. She walked over and he followed, stopping in front of the couch.

Jaskier smiled up at her, a little nervously. He never looked like that around Geralt, even at the beginning. “Hi.”

“Jaskier, right?” she asked, extending a hand. Jaskier blinked once but accepted it, shaking. “I’m Yennefer.” She plopped on the couch. “Don’t worry, I’ll be leaving soon. Just wanted to meet you.”

He nodded, a little confused, glancing at Geralt, who just slumped in defeat and sat on the other end of the couch. “I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s like a feral cat, I can’t do anything about it.”

Yennefer smacked him in the arm without even turning around. “So, Jaskier, just a little warning: if you even _think_ about breaking Geralt’s heart, I will tear your heart out of your chest cavity with my bare hands."

Geralt leaned forward. “ _Yen!_ ”

Jaskier just looked at Yennefer, oddly serious for a moment before he started laughing, a big grin on his face. “I won’t,” he said confidently. “And I’m glad he has you as a friend.”

Yennefer stared at him, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “You’re just looking out for him.”

Yennefer stood up. “Okay,” she said. “Please have fun, boys, and be safe.”

Geralt walked her to the door, glancing back at Jaskier, who was sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. Maybe he felt his eyes on him - or something - because he looked up and smiled brightly.

He looked away.

“He’s _sweet_ ,” Yennefer said.

Geralt looked at her. “Really?” he asked, disbelieving. “You hated Renfri the second you met her.”

“I did,” she confirmed, “and look what happened.” Geralt visibly winced and she reached out, touching his arm. “I didn’t - you know what I mean, Geralt. Jaskier seems good for you.”

Geralt nodded. “I hope so,” he said, honestly.

“Let me know if he hurts you,” she said. “Seriously. I’ll kill him.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and opened the door. Yennefer pursed her lips but left. He closed the door after her and turned around, leaning against the door for a second. Jaskier smiled at him from the couch.

“So,” he said with a coy grin. “What do you want to do?”

Geralt walked over. “Bedroom,” he said. “If that’s okay with you,” he added quickly.

Jaskier leaned up and kissed Geralt over the back of the couch, long and deep. He pulled back, biting his bottom lip. Geralt noticed he did that a lot, and he loved it. “More than okay,” he said softly. “Lead the way.”

Geralt liked sex. No, he loved it. But there was something odd about sex with Jaskier, because he found himself loving the moments _afterwards_ just as much. He loved when they finished and just laid together, dirty and sweaty but content, cuddling.

He loved hearing Jaskier talk about his day, his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Can I… ask something?” Jaskier said after a short lull in the conversation.

Geralt sighed and pulled him closer, rubbing his arm. “Mhmm,” was his reply.

Jaskier was silent for a few seconds, tracing shapes and patterns on Geralt’s chest. “Why… I don’t know if I should,” he admitted, but Geralt just squeezed him, gently. “Okay, um. Is there a… particular reason Yennefer is so protective of you?”

Geralt hmmed, closing his eyes. He thought of the photo - him and Renfri - still sitting, face down, on the table in the living room. “My last relationship wasn’t… things didn’t end well.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathed. “Okay.”

Geralt thought about leaving it at that - Jaskier wasn’t pushing for more, after all, but he liked Jaskier… _a lot._ He wanted to be honest, he wanted things to be better for them.

“Her name was Renfri. We met and things moved… really fast. And for a while, we were happy. But then, things changed, like they always do. Renfri was… she was nice, when she wanted to be.” Geralt took a deep breath. “But when she was angry, she got… really nasty and so did I. Our last fight was… _bad_. She left me, said - said I was dead to her. I tried calling and stuff, but she never answered. Yennefer was there for all of it.”

Jaskier nodded and turned his head, kissing the scarred skin of his shoulder. He never asked about his scars, Geralt realized, not like Renfri and all the others, the girls and guys who flirted with him.

“Don’t you want to know?” he asked after a moment, thinking he probably would if he was Jaskier.

Jaskier hummed softly. “I want to know whatever _you_ want to tell me.”

Geralt closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt like crying. He hadn’t cried since that fight with Renfri, and even then it’d been mostly angry tears.

“I’m tired,” he said finally, and if there was a tremble to his voice Jaskier ignored it.

He leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Okay,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Jaskier,” he said back, meaning it. He only ever wanted good things for the boy in his arms, and that - more than anything - was _terrifying_.

Geralt opened his eyes. It was early in the morning, a bit of sunlight pouring in through the windows. He blinked a few times, wetting his dry lips, and looked down. Jaskier was asleep on his chest, snoring quietly.

He smiled, the biggest he had in months. He was so _happy_ and that was so fucking terrifying.

Geralt touched his back lightly. “Jaskier,” he whispered. “I need to get up.”

Jaskier grumbled but rolled off, curling up into a ball - literally - on the other side of the bed. Geralt almost laughed, but resisted, standing up and walking to the bathroom.

He used the bathroom and rinsed his hands off, walking out. Jaskier was still sleeping soundly.

“Jaskier,” he said, quietly. He grumbled again. “Okay.”

Walking out of the room, he entered the kitchen and started making breakfast. He was finishing up, plating eggs, when Jaskier walked into the kitchen, yawning softly.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Geralt immediately noticed he was in his underwear and Geralt’s shirt from last night, a little big on him. He gulped. “Hey.”

“Food?” he asked, stepping closer with a grin. “For little ol’ me?”

Geralt rolled his eyes and grabbed the two plates, walking into the living room. “Grab drinks,” he called over his shoulder.

Jaskier walked into the living room a few moments later, carrying two beers. Geralt stared at him.

“Really?” he asked, but he was almost smiling.

Jaskier shrugged and plopped on the couch. “Do you work today?”

“No,” he answered in mild amusement.

Jaskier grinned brightly and opened Geralt’s beer for him. “Drink up, baby.”

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. “I hope you like eggs,” he said.

“Hmm,” Jaskier said around a mouthful. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Geralt looked away, grinning. Jaskier nudged him with his elbow, and they continued eating, mostly silent. He could tell it was killing Jaskier, like, really. He rolled his eyes fondly.

“What are you doing?” he asked finally.

Jaskier peeked at him and looked just the tiniest bit shy. “I - I was respecting your, like, boundaries or whatever,” he explained. “I thought my talking - well, a lot of my exes had similar opinions on that.”

Geralt squinted. “What do you mean?”

“They, uh - they all said I talked too much,” he admitted, cheeks pink. “And the thing is… they’re not _wrong_. I just - I like talking, almost as much as I like singing but singing is like accepted. Talking? That’s just - ”

Geralt leaned in and kissed him. “I don’t mind your talking,” he said, “as long as you don’t push for replies. It’s actually… kind of _nice_.”

Jaskier beamed. “Really? Okay, um. Okay.”

So, he talked a lot after that. Geralt leaned back and finished his eggs, watching him. Jaskier could be explained in one simple word: _animated_. He was animated in everything he did, in a way Geralt wasn’t. He admired that.

**epilogue;**

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hand. “Hey,” Jaskier said, but he was smiling, “don’t interrupt me - I gotta get ready for our date with Yen and Triss.”

“Hmm,” Geralt leaned down and nuzzled the side of his face. “You look fine.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Do not,” he argued. “I need to wash my face and - ”

Geralt squeezed his hand. “After,” he said. He led him out of his - practically _their_ bedroom, considering Jaskier almost always stayed the night - and into the living room.

“After _what?_ ” he asked, sounding amused. “Geralt, tell me.”

Geralt stopped and so did Jaskier, staring at him curiously. He must’ve noticed the serious look on his face because he stopped smiling and touched his arm, light and comforting.

“Geralt?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“That’s the thing,” he said after a moment, looking over at him. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” he said, and Jaskier smiled slowly.

“Yeah?” he asked, biting his bottom lip. “I - I am, too. So what’s going on?”

Geralt took a shaky breath and pointed. Jaskier looked down at the photo, face down, on the table near the door, still untouched. He blinked and looked back at Geralt, squeezing his hand.

“I don’t mind if you keep it,” he assured him gently.

Geralt shrugged. “Just - just look, okay?”

Furrowing his brows, Jaskier released his hand and grabbed the picture frame, righting it. The first thing out of his mouth was a soft gasp. Geralt cleared his throat.

“Is - is it okay?”

Jaskier stared down at it. “Okay? It’s - it’s _amazing_ , Geralt.” He turned and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, yanking him down. He kissed him, deep and long. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Geralt squeezed his sides. “It’s the least I can do, literally.”

Yennefer and Triss showed up just a few minutes later. Jaskier was still in the bathroom, getting ready.

“He should be finished any moment,” Geralt said, mostly for Triss. She just smiled sweetly, nodding.

Yennefer took a step forward and stopped in front of the table. Geralt waited for her reaction. “Cute photo,” she commented, looking over at Geralt.

Geralt looked down at it, too - it was a photo Jaskier had taken of them after just a couple weeks of dating. Geralt looked stupid, frankly, face all scrunched up and unhappy because he hated cameras, but Jaskier was grinning, like always.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It is.”

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoy my fics please check out:  
> korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


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